I’ll never forget the drive to our 2 Bed Lodge in Stepaside last autumn – that crisp October weekend when Pembrokeshire was wrapped in those golden hues that make you feel like you’ve stepped into a postcard. We’d piled into the car from Cardiff early Saturday morning, the kids buzzing with excitement about coastal adventures, me navigating with a dodgy sat-nav that decided halfway through Narberth to throw a proper wobbly. “Recalculating,” it droned, as we took a wrong turn onto a narrow lane that looked more like a sheep track than a road. Classic me – always one for a scenic detour, even if it involved reversing past a bewildered farmer’s cow. Twenty minutes later, we were back on track, laughing it off over emergency pasties from a roadside van, the air already thick with that salty sea tang mingling with fallen leaves.

Pulling up to the lodge just before noon felt like arriving at a cosy hug. Nestled in a quiet spot in Stepaside, it’s one of those unpretentious wooden retreats that scream “get away from it all” without trying too hard. Autumn had worked its magic here – the surrounding woods were a riot of rusts and ambers, leaves crunching underfoot as we unloaded bags. The lodge itself sat low and snug, with a veranda that overlooked a little garden dappled in afternoon sun. No grand entrance, just a key in a lockbox and we were in, greeted by the faint woodsmoke scent from a neighbour’s chimney. Perfect for the season, really; those early chills make you appreciate a place that promises warmth.

First impressions? Bloody brilliant. Stepping inside, the open-plan living area hit you with that lived-in charm – a squishy sofa piled with cushions, a wood-burning stove begging to be lit, and a kitchenette stocked with basics like tea, coffee, and a cheeky bottle of local Welsh gin left as a welcome touch. The two bedrooms were compact but spot-on: one with a double bed swathed in quilts (autumn duvet weather, innit?), the other with bunks for the kids, who immediately claimed it as their fort. Outside, the deck was leaf-strewn, ideal for sipping mugs of hot chocolate while watching the light fade over the valley. It was all so quintessentially Pembrokeshire in October – not the summer crowds, but that mellow magic where the coast feels like your private playground.

We didn’t waste time settling in. A quick unpack, then a stomp down to Stepaside’s village green, all of five minutes away, where the autumn sun filtered through the trees onto the duck pond. The kids tossed bread (okay, crisps – don’t judge) to the mallards, while I breathed in the damp earthiness. Later, we wandered to the nearby stepping stones over the stream, the water rushing colder than expected, leaves swirling like confetti. One slip on mossy rocks had me arse-over-tit into a shallow puddle – “Mum’s gone for a swim!” the little ones cackled. Light as a feather, that mishap, but it summed up the season’s playful side: unpredictable, refreshing, alive.

As dusk crept in with that early October twilight, we fired up the stove, its crackle filling the lodge with toasty glow. Fish and chips from the local takeaway in Amroth – just a hop away – tasted like heaven on paper plates, washed down with elderberry cordial that captured the hedgerows’ bounty. Peering out at the darkening woods, I had a quiet moment of reflection: in the rush of daily life, we forget how a place like this, in this weather, strips everything back. No screens, just us, the rustle of wind in the oaks, and the promise of misty mornings. Stepaside in autumn isn’t flashy; it’s restorative, a gentle nudge to slow down and savour the fade of the year. By bedtime, snuggled under layers, I knew we’d nailed the perfect first-night vibe – come hell, high water, or Welsh drizzle. Can’t wait to return when the frosts bite.